


Finest Kind

by infearfulday



Category: Inception (2010), MASH (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Family Reunions, Gen, M/M, Meet the Family, shameless crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infearfulday/pseuds/infearfulday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been years since Arthur's been home for a family reunion and it's about time he made the journey back to Crabapple Cove, Maine. There he was raised by his grandfather, former surgeon Hawkeye Pierce, who Arthur knows will get along famously with Eames. That is, if Eames can keep up with Hawkeye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finest Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Once the idea of Arthur being related to Hawkeye crossed my mind I could not get rid of it. This will mostly be through Eames' perspective, though if that changes I will make note of it.
> 
> Title shamelessly taken from Hawkeye's catchphrase (from the books and movie (and the first few episodes of season one)).

“I told you, I have my family reunion this weekend, I can’t work –“ Arthur said sharply into his phone, being cut off by a frustrated sounding woman. Who he was talking to was beyond Eames as he couldn’t make out her voice from the opposite end of the bedroom.

Truth be told, Eames was supposed to be helping Arthur pack for said reunion, but instead he sat perched on the edge of their bed and watched as the point man stalked about the room with his cell pinched between his shoulder and ear.

It was always fascinating to watch Arthur try and get off of the phone, as he was actually too polite to hang up on anyone, besides him, and too restrained to tell a potential coworker to piss off. The younger man had to resort to a different assortment of tactics, most of which ended up with Arthur grunting monosyllabically into the phone until the other person wore themselves out with talking and hung up. It always delighted Eames to see Arthur try and get someone else to hang up first so he could preserve his reputation.

Tonight seemed to be different, though, and he smirked as Arthur huffed indignantly before stating very simply, “I’m not going to be working with you, stop calling me, good night.” Arthur hung up and tossed his phone onto the bed where it proceeded to bounce hard and hit Eames in the thigh. He scrambled to catch it before it fell to the floor and shattered the screen like the last two phones Arthur had gone through.

“A bit pushy, huh?” He asked as he leaned over to put the cell phone onto the nightstand where it would be safe.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with people,” Arthur shook his head as he sat down on the opposite side of the bed, their largely empty suitcase open between them. “It’s not like I didn’t tell Lucia that I couldn’t take this job three weeks ago when she first asked. She seems to think that haranguing me will get me to change my mind.”

Eames let out a low chuckle, ignoring the hard look he was most definitely getting from Arthur. It made sense that it was Lucia who had been frantically trying to convince Arthur to change his mind. She was a sharp tongued and usually even headed woman, and was clearly getting frustrated by Arthur continually shutting her down. He’d only met the extractor a few times and he knew that Arthur had never worked with her before. And likely wouldn’t after being _harangued_ by her _._ Why Arthur couldn’t just say harassed like a regular person... “She just wants to work with the best, don’t begrudge her that.”

“I can begrudge her anything I want.”

If he called him out on his being petulant, Eames would likely be left to sleep on the sofa later and he didn’t want that. Arthur had the worst taste in furniture, going for looks over comfort. Sure, their living room looked sleek and modern with just the right amount of old world charm to it, but it lacked the warmth that their bedroom furniture had.  He had let Arthur decorate the living room in blacks and greys with the odd pop of color, but had insisted on the blues and yellows in the bedroom. It had been a well earned compromise.

“I haven’t seen my family in years, I’m not missing this reunion.”

“Yes, I know. You’ve been planning on this trip to Maine for months,” Eames said in a very poor attempt at pacifying Arthur now that he was wound up. “Let’s finish packing so we don’t have to worry about it in the morning.”

He held Arthur’s gaze as he stood up, patently keeping his expression even and as blank as possible in the face of his partner’s scrutiny.  Being at the center of Arthur’s attention was quite like being examined under a microscope with nothing to hide behind. It was intense and never failed to give him a chill, which was why he turned toward the closet when it became apparent Arthur was going to keep staring at him until he admitted what was wrong about his last statement.

Luckily for him, he was given the answer after a prolonged moment.

“That implies that you’ve already started helping me pack, Eames,” Arthur said without any real heat. “All you’ve done is watch.”  
  
“I did pull the suitcase down out of the attic,” he pointed out before disappearing into the closet to actually gather his clothes.  The easiest way to get out of an argument, he found, was to walk away and let something else take hold of the man’s attention.

“Whatever, just be sure to pack at least one suit. And,” he heard Arthur hesitate, not sure what that was about he just waited for the man to continue as he pulled his Dunhill from its bag, checking it for any faults. “And you should bring that Hawaiian shirt you bought just to tease me.”

Eames was glad Arthur couldn’t see the horrified face he was making.

“I never meant to wear that atrocity, Arthur. Why would you even?”

“My Grandfather will love it, OK, don’t ask, he just likes some really weird things.” Arthur still seemed to be in a right mood over the Lucia mess, so Eames didn’t press him to elaborate.

While he knew that Arthur, and his mysterious sister (whose name was Marcia and that’s all Eames knew), had been raised by their paternal grandfather, Eames found that he didn’t know much about the man. He had caught snippets of conversations between them, but never had a chance to meet the patriarch of the Pierce family until now. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t simultaneously thrilled and terrified at the prospect. No one else was able to make Arthur laugh so raucously or frequently and while that made Eames just a bit jealous, he knew there was something special about the old man that he had to see for himself in person. Anyone who could raise Arthur into the attentive, stellar man he was today was a special person indeed.

What Eames wanted most out of this whole reunion ordeal was details about Arthur’s childhood – the man himself had been stingy with the stories about where he went to school and who he was friends with or who he shared his first kiss with. While it was his prerogative to keep mum about it, Eames was determined to ferret out those delightful details from those who knew Arthur before he joined the military and project Somnacin, where they had met what seemed like centuries ago.

He grabbed the Hawaiian shirt from its hiding place in the bottom drawer of the dresser they kept in their closet, clutching it in one hand and the Dunhill in the other. It wasn’t the most hideous pattern that he could have picked, but the blue shirt with overly large white hibiscus pattern just wasn’t his thing at all. When he had purchased it, it was meant to be a joke. Since he always appeared in Arthur’s dream levels wearing some bit of ostentatious pattern – they were always Arthur’s fault – he had decided to drag it into their reality since the man seemed to enjoy seeing him in things he would never actually wear.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this sartorially confused before,” he said as he tossed the Hawaiian shirt into the suitcase and laid the suit out next to it. “But I’ll be good and bring whatever it is you want me to bring.” Eames just hoped that he wouldn’t actually have to wear the cotton monstrosity.

“Thank you, Eames.” Arthur said as he packed a few necessities away in the suitcase’s front pocket. “I think Hawkeye will be too busy corralling all of his friends to insist you put it on, but who knows. He’s worse than I am with the little details.

“Worse? What do you mean by worse, Arthur, because you’re a fanatic about details.” Eames pointed at him with an accusatory finger as he finished zipping his suit in with the bespoke suit Arthur was bringing with him into the suit carrier. While he had no idea why Arthur called his grandfather Hawkeye, he figured it was best to find out over the weekend than nitpick now.

Watching as Arthur hummed thoughtfully to himself, Eames did not like the look that shifted over the man’s face like he was considering how to break bad news to him. The small indent between the dark haired man’s forehead appeared as his brows drew together, eyes squinting as if he were looking directly at the sun – while he thought Arthur gorgeous in every way, this was a dangerous look.  
  
“Well, he was a surgeon, so his work was all about the miniscule details,” he pauses and looked over at Eames, his expression evening out. “You know, with people’s lives in his hands, literally, he had to be able to notice everything and anything. He taught me how to dissect the bigger picture and look for flaws and then figure out how to fix them.”

The way Arthur spoke about the man was endearing and Eames was glad that he was being included on this excursion. Not that he wouldn’t have fought tooth and nail had Arthur tried to exclude him, because he would have.  
  
“So, you’re telling me that he’s just as insane as you are and likely a bit more intense?” He asked as he sat back down on the bed, keeping a grin at bay.

“I guess I am – come on, Eames. This will go much faster if you keep moving.” Arthur said with a sigh as he ducked into the bathroom. And while Eames really did want to get the packing ordeal over with, he didn’t get up until Arthur returned and chucked a (thankfully sealed) bottle of mouthwash at him which he was able to catch before it gave him a black eye.

“Fine – fine. Have it your way, task master.” Eames grumbled as he set about gathering the rest of the clothes he would need for the long weekend. Their flight left at eight in the morning and he knew that they would be up almost all night checking and ensuring that they had everything they could possibly need. That and their cumulative excitement would likely keep them up as well. As he ducked around Arthur to venture back into their closet, Eames pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

It didn't take them much longer to pack away everything, and as Eames expected, neither of them slept much during the night. Though Arthur was dead to the world and sleeping against his side once they were airborn and well on their way to Crabapple Cove.

 


End file.
